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1922 
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SONNETS 

TO A 

RED-HAIRED 

L,^DY 

AND FAMOUS 

i.OVE A: h AIRS 



BY 
DON I, ^OUIS 




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Book /A/.7S6 

CQEJMGHT DEPOSm 



SONNETS TO A RED-HAIRED LADY 

AND 

FAMOUS LOVE AFFAIRS 



BOOKS BY DON MARQUIS 



Cruise of the Jasper B. 

Danny's Own Story 

Dreams and Dust 

Hermione and Her Little Group or 

Serious Thinkers 
Poems and Portraits 
Prefaces (Decorations by Tony Sarq) 
Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady and 

Famous Love Affairs 
The Old Soak and Hail and Farewell 



SONNETS TO A 
RED-HAIRED LADY 

{By a Gentleman with a Blue Beard) 

AND 

FAMOUS LOVE AFFAIRS 

BY 
DON MARQUIS 




DRAWINGS 

BY 

STUART HAY 



GARDEN CITY, NEW YORK, TORONTO 

DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY 
1922 



-v^ 






COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY 

DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY 

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION 

INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN 

COPYRIGHT, IQIS, I916, I917, BY SUN PRINTING AND PUBLISHING ASSOCIATION 

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES 

AT 

THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, N. T. 

First Edition 



M -I 1922 

©CI.A661958 



TO 
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS 

THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED 

WITHOUT HER PERMISSION 

BY ONE OF 

HER HUMBLE ADMIRERS 



CONTENTS 

SONNETS TO A RED-HAIRED LADY 



PAGE 



I. Comet, shake out your locks and 

let them flare 1 

II. Plunge shaded eyes adown the 

flaming past 2 

III. Old Titian loved your sort of 

fiery mop 3 

IV. A golden strangeness through the 

night is shed 4 

V. Suzanne, I bid you fling aside 

your comb 7 

VI. My Torchlight Dame! My Frail 

Incomparable! .... 8 
VII. I saw some bright flowers sway- 
ing in the park .... 11 
Vni. There is a freckle just below thine 

ear 12 

IX. All ardors of the flaming dawn 

are thine 15 

X. Some blind and witless boobs, 

Caloric Cutey .... 16 
vii 



viii Contents 

PAGE 

XI. My Blazing Jewel ! in thee all 

gems have part .... 19 

XII. Sun of my Heaven! Harvest 

Moon of love! 20 

XIII. When I approach the chill Le- 
thean River 23 

XIV. When I grow older will you be 

my wife? 24 

XV. Suzanne, I bring you ornaments 

of jade 27 

XVI. Against what background 

should I paint your head.? . 28 

XVII. Dante for Beatrice sang his 

solemn story 31 

XVIII. If I were blind, my spirit still 

would see » 32 

XIX. All ardours, prisms, glamours, 

gems of gold 33 

XX. Suzanne, give me a lock of 

that bright hair! ... 34 

XXI. O lovely Griddle where my 

Cakes of Song .... 35 

XXII. As the mad lark rises, drunk 

with song and sun ... 36 

XXIII. You are a Torchlight Rally, 

Susan! Flare! 37 



Contents 



IX 



XXIV. I had a dream, and in the 

dream they said ... 38 

XXV. Since first man's eyes unsealed 

were in sight .... 41 

XXVI. Suzanne, my Beard is Blue, 

whether I shave ... 42 

XXVII. Blue is my Beard, Suzanne; 

my Beard is Blue! ... 45 

XXVIII. Splendour Incarnate! Great 

Auroral Blaze ! . . . . 46 

XXIX. Thy motion fills the eye with 

minstrelsy 47 

XXX. Your mother, turning to me 

suddenly 48 

XXXI. Why do you let Mose Billups 

call you "Sue"? ... 51 

' XXXII. When Dian o'er the purple 

ocean springs .... 52 

XXXIII. The poet blots the end the 

jester wrote 55 

XXXIV. I did not wish to love thee, 

for I hate 56 

XXXV. Strip off my mask of laughter 

from my face .... 57 
XXXVI. Warned by a thousand 

dreams, I took no heed. 58 



CONTENTS 

FAMOUS LOVE AFFAIRS 

PAGE 

Paris and Helen 61 

King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid . 67 

Tristram and Isolt 73 

Othello and Desdemona 81 

Antony and Cleopatra 84 

Cleopatra on Mrs. Marc Antony . . 89 

Queen Elizabeth Interviewed ... 97 

Romeo and Juliet 103 

Petrarch and Laura 107 

Hero and Leander 112 

Adam and Eve 119 

Lancelot and Guinevere 122 

Solomon and Balkis 126 

Dido and iEneas 130 

Harlequin and Columbine .... 136 



LIST OF TEXT ILLUSTRATIONS 

" Suzanne, my beard is blue " . Frontispiece 



" I canned her, Sue " 

*' Would fuss with herpieide "... 

" I steer by you " 

" I soaked the poor girl in a vat of lotion' 
" I took a club and chased the girl away' 
" This lowbrowed world " . . . . 
"As I await old Charon's hydro-flivver' 
" Before you snowed so over all " 

" 'Susan was the Ace '" 

"Drawn together by some cubist" . 
"Above the clutching hands of fate " 
"Something kindred in me jumps and 

sings" 

" Paris was a pretty gent " . . . . 
" Drink chalice after chalice "... 
" Rode by her palace on a day " . . 
" 'I need some drammer' " . . . . 
" In rushing from the palace "... 
" 'I cannot live a year without her' " 
" He would do fancy swimmin' " . 
"Adam was a handsome lad " . . . 
" Too intimate to write on '* ... 



5 
9 
10 
13 
17 
21 
25 
29 
39 
43 
49 

53 

63 

69 

75 

85 

95 

109 

113 

117 

131 



SONNETS TO A RED-HAIRED LADY 



Sonnets to a Red-Haired 
Lady 



I. 



Comet, shake out your locks and let them 

flare 
Across the startled heaven of my soul ! 
Pluck out the hairpins, Sue, and let her roll ! 
Don't be so stingy with your blooming hair. 
But let the whole created cosmos share 
The glory of its colour, flashed and swirled 
Like nets of sunset flung to mesh a world. . . . 
Don't wear it in a little wad up there! 

And yet, Suzanne, my comet and my star. 
At times restrain those locks a little, too. . . . 
My First Wife let her hair go quite too far 
In culinary ways. I beaned her. Sue. . . . 
She looked so wistful as she passed away. 
That dear, lost woman. Sue! Ah, welladay! 
1 



2 Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady 



n. 



Plunge shaded eyes adown the flaming 

past 
And lamp the locks that set the world 

afire: — 
O wig that touched off Troy! O Dido's 

pyre. 
Where flame was given back to flame at 

last! 
O love that lashed Ulysses to the mast 
What time the red-head Sirens smote the 

lyre! 
O simps that used to simmer and perspire 
When Mary Stuart's furnace ran full blast! 

My Second Wife would very often say: 
"There's nothing — nothing — I can do with 

it 
Just after it's been washed!" Ah, wella- 

day! 
Sometimes I've thought 'twas almost 

wrong to hit 
A woman hard ... I mention this to you 
Merely in pensive reminiscence, Sue. 



Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady 3 

m. 

Old Titian loved your sort of fiery mop, 
And down hie leagues of canvas, crowned 

with flame, 
Walks one long pageant of Torchlight 

Dame, 
Nor hath Oblivion any traffic cop 
To bid that bright procession swerve or 

stop . . . 
I've heard your brother call you Burning 

Shame : 
Some day I'll bend that poor simp's vital 

frame 
Beyond repair ! Suzanne, sweet Carrot Top, 

When we are wedded, prithee, don't allow 
Your idiot relations near our house . . . 
My Third Wife's father wagged a silly pow 
In all our councils, Susan. Welladay! 
They he in one grave now, my erstwhile 

spouse. 
And he, her sire, who gave the bride away. 



4 Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady 

IV. 

A GOLDEN strangeness through the nights is 
shed 

When Summer merges into harvest-time. 

The white moon ripens to a globe of red 

And human blood grows quick for love or 
crime — 

That sanguine sphere has swung too close 
to earth 

And flushed the lucent dews of dusk with 
wine, 

A sudden madness mingles with men's 
mirth 

And pagan fancies walk the wild moon- 
shine. . . . 

So am I troubled and not wholly sane 

To see your red head floating like that 

moon; 
The notions melt and spread inside my 

brain 
Till I am crazy as the well-known loon. . . . 
My Fourth Wife left me with the moon 

that way; 
Some say I slew her, Sue! Ah, welladay! 




*' / canned her, Sue ' 

5 



Sonnets to a Bed-Haired Lady 7 



V. 



Suzanne, I bid you fling aside your comb 

And down the wind let stream your burn- 
ing hair! 

My soul, perchance, through midnights of 
despair. 

May see it, Sultry Kid, and flutter home! 

Or is there danger in that flaming 
dome? . . . 

Suppose I fluttered moth-like, frying there 

Unto a crackling, Susan! . . . would you 
care. 

My pink-beaned Venus crowned with 
fiery foam? 

My Fifth Wife had a wad of hair herself; 
She used to wash and wash and wash the 

stuff; 
I canned her, Sue; I put her on the shelf; 
I like clean hair, but still, enough's 

enough. . . . 
She'd get it dry the radiator way. . . . 
How these old griefs return! Ah, welladay! 



8 Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady 

VI. 

My Torchlight Dame ! My Frail Incom- 
parable! 

My sunset Afterglow! My Aureole! 

Does your head symbolize your ardent 
soul? 

Then must your spirit sting its earthly 
shell 

As hot as pepper-sauce that's served in hell! 

Shake out those billowy flames and let *em 
roU 

Across the world until the very Pole 

Melts into love and steams beneath their 
spell! 

My Sixth Wife, Sue, would fuss with her- 

picide; 
I loathe the odor; in the kindliest way 
I choked her; she forgave me as she died. . . . 
How these old memories throng! Ah, 

welladay ! 
I do not wish to cloud our love with gloom. 
But, Sue, avoid all unguents and perfume. 




*' Would fuss with herpicide'* 







"/ steer hy you] 

10 



Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady 11 

vn. 

I SAW some bright flowers swaying in the 

park 
'And thought how hke their life your red 

locks blow. . . . 
My Flame! My Sunrise and mine After- 
glow! 
My genial Hearthfire blazing through the 

dark! 
My Gaudy Kid! Upon Ufe's headlands, 

stark 
And bleak, over the treacherous tides that 

flow, 
A beacon light your Fiery Bean doth 

throw. . . . 
I steer by you and save my giddy bark. 

How I should hate it. Lighthouse tall and 

shm. 
If you should cut your hair and dim your fire I 
My Seventh Wife did that; she doused her 

ghm. 
And dousing it, she damped my soul's 

desire — 
I took a brick and shaved the rest away, 
But still her memory stirs me. . . . Well- 

aday! 



12 Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady 

Yin. 

There is a freckle just below thine ear 
That might have been a theme for Shake- 
speare's art . . . 
A fleck of gold out of thy golden heart, 
A stain that makes thy stainlessness more 

dear, 
Tossed by thy tidal blood as flotsam here 
In its warm voyage through every lovely 

part . . . 
Hang Shakespeare, Sue! And don't let 

freckles start! 
I'd just as lief see optics with a blear. 

Your hair's your one best bet. Hold on to 

that. 
My Eighth Wife had that silly freckle 

notion . . . 
I soaked the poor girl in a vat of lotion 
So much that presently she pined away. . . . 
She never had been very strong nor fat. . . . 
These dear dead women, Sue! Ah, well- 

aday! 




/ soaked the poor girl in a vat of lotion ' 

13 



Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady 15 

IX. 

All ardors of the flaming dawn are thine. 
Its glamours blended in thy glowing hair! 
And sunset winds within thy blowing hair 
Have twined and woven all the sunset's 

shine! 
And all the quick and kindling heart of 

wine 
And heat of wit are in thy flowing hair. . . . 
Suzanne, be sure you keep that growing 

hair: — 
If you turn bald you never can be mine! 

My Ninth Wife used peroxide on her 

bean . . . 
She had bad luck; it turned her wig bright 

green . . . 
I took a club and chased the girl away. 
Although the poor thing pleaded hard to 

stay. . . . 
Suzanne, I hope you'll never make a scene. 
They grieve one later. Sue. Ah, welladay ! 



16 Sonnets to a Red-H aired Lady 

X. 

Some blind and witless boobs, Caloric 

Cutey, 
Are moved to scorn red hair, to spoof and 

mock . . . 
Not I . . . 'Od'swounds! ... it biffs me 

with a shock 
Electric, overwhelming me with beauty. 
My soul (your salamander. Tootsy too ty !) 
In fancy dwells 'twixt lock and burning 

lock . . . 
And had I twenty souls the whole derned 

flock 
Were yours, O Flame that nevermore grows 

sooty! 

My Tenth Wife bobbed her hair ... I got 

an axe 
And just for that I bobbed the lady's 

head! 
Alas ! the memory of sweethearts dead 
Still from love's current largesse claims a 

tax! 
I hope we will not part in just that way, 
Suzanne . . . But who can tell? Ah, well- 

aday! 




"/ took a club and chased the girl away 



17 



Sonnets to a Red-H aired Lady 19 

XI. 

My Blazing Jewel! in thee all gems have 

part : 
Red garnets and red rubies hot and bold. 
Enkindling diamond and mellow gold. 
Quick levin flickering at the opal's heart. 
And the prismed crystal's fiery-edged dart, 
All blent to dazzle him that dares be- 
hold. . . . 
A Red Head, says the world, will always 

scold . . . 
This lowbrowed world! It thinks it's 
Awful Smart! 

Ah me! that sad Eleventh Wife of mine! 
She nagged me, in a shrill, high, tinny 

tone, 
Until I hogtied her with hammock twine 
And bound her, talking, to a gramophone. 
Within a cell where each jaws each 

alway . . . 
These voices of the past! Ah, welladay! 



20 Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady 



XII. 

Sun of my Heaven ! Harvest Moon of love! 
Bright Planet! Comet! . . . whether earth 

or sky 
I scan, your Pink Bean meets my spirit's 

eye, 
O peer of flowers beneath and stars above! 

Aphrodite's Crimson-Crested Dove, 

1 love you as New Englanders love pie! 
Vesuvius Girl! your fiery head fling high 
And give yon leering Zenith's face a shove ! 

My Twelfth Wife used to go about with 

twisters 
Of kid upon her hair to keep it curley . , . 
I pulled it all out by the roots . . . Poor 

girlie ! 
Her baldness rather shocked her aunts and 

sisters . . . 
She died soon after . . . Ah, that's 

woman's way! 
They leave us flat so often! Welladay! 




" This lowbrowed world 

21 



Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady 23 

xni. 

When I approach the chill Lethean river 
And stand, all astral gooseflesh, on the 

brim, 
Will your Red Head shine for me through 

the dim 
Damp shadows where I rub my soul and 

shiver 
As I await old Charon's hydro-flivver? 
A Lighthouse on the Other Shore? A Glim 
Of warmth and courage o'er the waters 

grim? 
Will you be mine on Earth and mine 

Forever? 

Suzanne, I hope things will not go so 

far . . . 
My Thirteenth Wife would say: "Eternity, 
My spouse, is not too long for you and me! " 
It made me writhe ! I painted her with tar 
And touched her off and watched her 

blaze away. . . . 
How love's old embers burn! Ah, well- 

aday! 



24 Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady 

XIV. 

When I grow older will you be my wife? 
Not now, Suzanne ... in twenty years or 

more. 
Unless I change my mind, I'd like you for 
A Bonfire in the Autumn of my Life. 
But, no! You may be faded then with 

strife 
Of living . . . marry another, I implore! 
And raise me up your daughter to adore. 
Red Haired, with your own candent 

beauty rife. 

My Fourteenth Wife had unresponsive 

hair, 
As drab in tone, inert to touch, as clay; 
She wore it in an ugly little knot; 
She had a morbid interest in prayer. 
Which vexed me so I had to have her 

shot. . . . 
She's with the angels now! Ah, welladay! 




*'As I await old Charon's hydro-Jliwer' 



25 



Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady 27 

XV. 

Suzanne, I bring you ornaments of jade, 
Dark green to mingle with the shifting 

green 
Of your cat's eyes. You are a cat, my 

Queen, 
White-toothed and tigerish . . . but I'm 

afraid 
Sometimes the part's a trifle overplayed. 
Some day, when you decide you'll make a 

scene. 
Some one will bend a poker o'er your bean 
And you will lead a solemn street parade. 

Don't get too temperamental, Susan dear, 
With me! You dress the part that fits 

your hair. 
But don't scratch, Sue, nor get upon your 

ear. 
Nor be too serious with that Feline Stare! 
My Fifteenth Wife would kid herself that 

way . . . 
But she has left me, Susan! Welladay ! 



28 Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady 

XVI. 

Against what background should I paint 

your head? . . . 
Relieved upon such paler gold as falls 
Through groined and mullioned windows 

on the walls 
Of storied minsters, crumbling like their 

dead? 
I will not paint it, Kid ! Your sort of red. 
As full of pep as redhot cannon-balls, 
Titians must splash across the frescoed 

halls. . . . 
Mine ain't the art for it, when all is said. 



My Sixteenth Wife told every one that 

called : 
"When I was married my hair was so long 
That I could sit on it!" The story palled 
In time, and she that told it stole away 
Into Oblivion . . . haply I did wrong 
To choke her with that hair? Ah, wella- 

day! 




^Before you snowed so over all** 



29 



Sonnets to a Red-H aired Lady 31 

XVII. 

Dante for Beatrice sang his solemn story, 
Dan for Beersheba all his poems wrote. 
Alpha in fair Omega's praises smote 
The lyre, and Petrarch jollied little 

Laurie . . . 
Suzanne, I'll make you famous, too, 

b'gorry ! 
Like other Well-EInown Couples of great 

note. 
Your earnest, honest and industrious Pote 
Will cover both himself and you with 

glory! 



Alas! my frail Wife Number Seventeen . . . 
In memory still I see her dandruff fall ! 
"I loved you once," I told her, "O, my 

queen! 
That was before you snowed so over all 
The house . . . now. Human Blizzard, 

blow away!" 
She blew. Her memory lingers . . . Well- 

aday! 



32 Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady 

XVIII. 

If I were blind, my spirit still would see 
Thy being break my midnight with its 

glow . . . 
If I were lying dead I still would know 
A warm difference didst thou pause by me. 
So strong the glorious vital heat of thee! 
Caloric Kid! you melt the winter's snow. . . 
I would sit up and want to be your Beau 
Even if drunk, O Incandescent She! 

My Eighteenth Wife dropped hairpins by 

the score. 
Pitter-patter, everywhere she ambled. 
Jingle- jangle, everywhere she rambled. 
Sidewalk, table, hammock, chair and 

floor . . . 
I drove a dozen in her head in play 
One time . . . She took it serious . . , 

Welladay! 



Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady 33 

XIX. 

All ardours, prisms, glamours,gemsof gold, 
All flame of wit and fiery blood of wine 
Have blent their brightness in that hair of 

thine ! 
Worn as thy woven crown, or all unrolled 
And blown by amorous winds grown over- 
bold, 
It gives the twilight back the morning's 

shine, 
And all fresh hearts put tendrils forth to 

twine 
Them with thy living glory, fold on fold. 

Thy hair! ... it falls in tides of turbu- 
lence 

Across the lyric wonder of thy throat. 

In tides that drown my dazzled vision's 
sense . . . 

Said Wife Nineteen : " Your sonnets get my 
goat!" 

I cried: "Your hair is like drab-coloured 
hay!" 

I choked her with it. Sue . . . Ah, well- 
aday! 



34 Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady 

XX. 

Suzanne, give me a lock of that bright 

hair! 
Shear from the burning frame about thy 

face 
One vital flame, one strand of living grace. 
And it shall warm me until death, I swear! 
Trust me, Suzanne, to handle it with care — 
I have had made a cute asbestos case : 
Over my heart the keepsake shall have 

place. 
Sewed in the winter flannels that I wear. 



My Twentieth Wife had all too pallid 

lashes, 
And her thin eyebrows, too, were almost 

white. 
I shaved them ofiF . . . some incidental 

gashes 
Made her to moan and murmur all that 

night. 
And with the dawn her spirit passed a- 

way . . . 
How fragile women are! Ah, welladay! 



Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady 35 

XXI. 

O LOVELY Griddle where my Cakes of Song 
Are baked! O Gulf Stream of my ocean 

deep! 
O Human Thermos Bottle ! will you keep 
My love as hot as this our whole lives long? 
Or will the slow years moderate the strong 
Caloric currents? . . . gradual years that 

creep 
To frost Love's tootsies where he lies 

asleep . . . 
Shall our fate be that of the common 

throng? 

Well, you at least will live in memory; 
And that, Suzanne, is more than I can say 
Of my Wife Nupiber Twenty-one, for she 
Out of my mind has faded quite away. 
Too vague to be a ghost! She worshipped 

me. 
No doubt . . . but onie forgets ! Ah, well- 

aday! 



36 Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady 

XXII. 

As THE mad lark rises, drunk with song 

and sun. 
When morning bends above the dewy 

meadow. 
And his clear call proclaims: "The Day is 

won!" 
Over a hurrying rout of driven shadow, 
So likewise do I sing, my Sugar-Bun, 
When your red bean floats into sight, 

sweet Kiddo ! 
It fills me full of joy . . . it makes me, 

Hon, 
As happy as a Million Dollar Widow ! 

My Twenty-second Wife wore nightcaps. 

Sue . . . 
Frilled things, with cherry-coloured ribbons 

stuck 
Upon them. When I pulled one off, as 

luck 
Would have it, why the lady's head came 

too! 
Anger made me too rough, as anger may. 
No doubt. So died our romance! Well- 

aday! 



Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady 37 

XXIII. 

You are a Torchlight Rally, Susan! Flare! 
I'll be your Given Point, my Torchlight 

Dame . . . 
Do you pass by me, crowned with fiery 

fame. 
And you will keep me happy sitting there 
Unto eternity, to watch your glare! 
I am a Bug! I am your Moth for flame! 
Pete Pyromania is my middle name — 
Gosh-ding it, Sue, I like your kind of hair! 



Ah, Twenty-three! that fateful number 

cursed 
My third-and-twentieth marriage from 

the first! 
Scarce were the orange blossoms off her 

when 
I found those blossoms had concealed a 

wen . . . 
Ah, twenty-three! In my rough, kindly 

way 
I played the surgeon, Susan . . . Well- 

aday! 



38 Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady 

XXIV. 

I HAD a dream, and in the dream they said 
You were no more, and took me to the 

place 
Where you lay buried; over your bright 

face 
Bright grasses grew, and bright flowers 

nourished 
Out of the lovehness of your bright head — 
And as I stood there, weeping for a space, 
A faint voice murmured, "Susan was the 

Ace 
Of all those more than ninety wives you 

wed!" 

The number on your tomb was Ninety- 
two! 

My Four-and-Twentieth Wife I took in 
play 

And showed her where her predecessors 
lay. 

One time . . . Why do I tell you these 
things, Sue? 

I don't believe in dreams. Sweetheart, 
do you? 

But still they make one pensive! . . . Well- 
aday ! 



jT 






~7 


^ 




ft 


M 




v\l 




1 


IVi) 


^ 


_j 


jH 




m 





'** Susan was the Ace 



Sonnets to a Red-H aired Lady 41 

XXV. 

Since first man's eyes unsealed were in 
sight 

One word has been the symbol of his hope; 

Wanting that word, the soul itself must 
grope 

In a thick speechlessness as blank as night. 

Seeking to say itself : That word is " Light ! '* 

Suzanne, were I Hell's darkest misan- 
thrope 

And your red head came bobbing up the 
slope, 

I'd cry, "Cheer O! Here's Sue! Thmgs 
are all right!" 

Old kid, I spoof you frightfully, I know. 
But underneath it all . . . you get me, 

Sue? 
Wife Twenty-five had hair that turned to 

snow 
Because I joshed her just as I josh you . . . 
But you, you like my playful little way ! 
Some hearts were broken by it! Welladay! 



42 Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady 

XXVI. 

Suzanne, my Beard is Blue, whether I 

shave 
It close or let it float ambrosial on 
The breeze like sprays of lilac cloud at 

dawn . . . 
Blue as the tossed and curled and ravelled 

wave. 
Reef -combed, that coils about some ocean 

cave 
Where the coy smelt creeps to woo the 

flattered prawn .... 
Sooze, what a poster we would make if 

drawn 
Together by some cubist loud and brave! 

If drawn together. Sue! The artist. Fate, 
Has drawn and scrambled us in just that 

way . . . 
Wife Twenty-Six wore on her desert pate 
A wig ... I tied it to an opera chair 
One night; and when she rose it dangled 

there 
And left her bald and broken. . . Wella- 

day! 




^h 



"Drawn together by some cubist" 



43 



Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady 45 

XXVII. 

Blue is my Beard, Suzanne; my Beard is 
Blue! 

Blue as the nose that graduate drunkards 
wear . . . 

Blue as the tumbled meadows of wide air 

Pallas Athene's chariot plunges through. . . 

(I don't know why I drag in Pallas, Sue, 

Except the name sounds rather flossy 
there) . . . 

With my Blue Beard and with your Crim- 
son Hair, 

Affinities predestined, Me and You! 

Mayhap I've told you why Wife Twenty- 
seven 

Left me to mourn and climbed the starry 
way 

Up from a thirty-dollar flat to Heaven!^ — 

Suzanne, the woman carelessly turned 
gray! 

I gently slew her one sweet Autumn even. . . 

These poignant old regrets! Ah, Wella- 
day! 



46 Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady 

XXVIII. 

Splendour Incarnate! Great Auroral Blaze! 

Pillar of Fire, that through my mortal 
night 

Still burns to give my groping spirit sight, 

I'm gonna bean your Dad one of these days! 

"Carrots," I heard him call you, and 
amaze 

That such a Ribald Boob, by no means 
bright, 

Should be your parent overwhelmed me 
quite. 

"Carrots," he called you! Blast his vul- 
gar ways! 

Listen, Suzanne: he'd better get a job! 
He cannot board with us when we are wed. 
That pear-nosed, goat - chinned, fish - 

mouthed, prune-eyed slob! 
My Twenty -eighth Wife had a Dad I fed: 
They ate and ate until both passed away 
Through eating Prussia Acid . . . Well- 

aday ! 



Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady 47 

XXIX. 

Thy motion fills the eye with minstrelsy, 
As if thou wert a Song one could behold. . . 
Proud sails of Venice steeped in ruddy gold. 
Singing their colour down the charmed sea. 
Move onward clad in music like to thee . . . 
As long as you can keep from getting old 
I'm for you, Brick-Topped Sue, nor 
shall grow cold, 

Pink-Domed Theme for my Hyperbole! 

My Twenty-ninth Wife used to change 

and change 
And change the way she wore her hair and 

say: 
"Now, donH you like it better, Love, this 

She seemed exhaustless in her hirsute 
range . . . 

1 scalped her, Susie dear . . . Ah, Well- 

aday! 
How sweet old memories are, how rare and 
strange! 



48 Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady 

XXX. 

Your mother, turning to me suddenly, 
Caught the broad sunset on her triple chin 
And nigh her ample and too friendly grin. 
Where cheek joins neck in blown obesity, 
A faint red whisker was confessed to me. 
Suzanne! if you should feel a beard begin 
Be resolute and to the hilts thrust in 
These silvern tweezers that I send to 
thee . . . 



And if nor strength nor sleight of art avail, 
Oh, still be resolute, Suzanne, and play 
The nobler part; a dagger here I lay 
Beside the tweezers, Sue . . . My Thir- 
tieth's tale 
Deals with a Wart that naught could 

charm away; 
A tale so sad, so sadl Ah, Welladay ! 




''Above the clutching hands of Fate" 



Sonnets to a Red-H aired Lady 51 

XXXI. 

Why do you let Mose Billups call you 
"Sue?" 

That rodent-minded, mutt-faced, wolf- 
eared Mose, 

That muddy blackhead on Life's pitted 
nose. 

That dull negation of the good and true ! 

Yes, I have heard him call you "Soosie," 
too! 

And once he said you were "a fullblown 
rose" . . . 

Good Gawd! to fall for phrases such as 
those 

When I write Sonnets such as these to you ! 

Suzanne, perhaps you don't appreciate 
The fact that I, in this immortal rhyme, 
Lift you above the clutching hands of 

Fate 
And make you bronze to blunt the edge of 

Time! 
Some of my earlier wives were blind that 

way . . . 
Where are they now? Alas! and Welladay! 



52 Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady 

XXXII. 

When Dian o'er the purple ocean springs 
The porpoise spouts in glee, the penguins 

crow, 
And all the glad sea lions leap and blow 
Their trumpets till the well-known welkin 

rings. 
And something kindred in me jumps and 

sings, 
Suzanne, when your red bean's supernal 

glow 
Flings heavenly light about you as you go 
Across the beach in your new bathing 

things. 

'Tis more than what you wear, or even 

what 
You do not wear, that stirs my lyric blood ; 
You are my moon, my planet bright and 

hot, 
I'm like the wallowing creatures of the 

flood: 
The tidal moods of me you mete and sway. 
One wife would bathe in stockings! Well- 

aday! 




"Something kindred in me jumps and sings'* 

53 



Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady 55 

XXXIII. 

The poet blots the end the jester wrote: 
For now I drop the dull quip's forced 

pretence, 
Forego the perch'd fool's dubious emi- 
nence — 
Thy tresses I have sung, that fall and float 
Across the lyric wonder of thy throat 
In dangerous tides of golden turbulence 
Wherein a man might drown him, soul and 

sense, 
Is not their beauty worth one honest note? 

And thee, thyself, what shall I say of thee? — 
Are thy snares strong, and will thy bonds 

endure? 
Thou hast the sense, hast thou the soul of 

me? 
In subtle webs and silken arts obscure 
Thou hast the sense of me, but canst thou 

bind 
The scornful pinions of my laughing mind? 



56 Sonnets to a Red-H aired Lady 

XXXIV. 

I DID not wish to love thee, for I hate 
To have a woman clinging to my soul : 
My gods have made it hard to seek their 

goal 
Without the burden of that added weight. 
Some men there be, triumphant over fate. 
Who say they gain more freedom through 

control 
Of a binding love that dominates the whole 
Of them; I find it hard to abdicate — 

Will Love let no man call his soul his own? 
Wliether I walk in shadow or in sun 
My spirit dies unless I walk alone; 
I loathe this cant that says two souls grow 



one 



But thou wilt call it infidelity 

Unless I share my jealous gods with thee. 



Sonnets to a Red-H aired Lady 57 

XXXV. 

Strip off my mask of laughter from my face 
And find it seamed with stark reahties: 
The eye absorbs the soul of what it sees, 
And I stare long at things whose bleaker 

grace 
Seldom in woman's warmer realm has 

place — 
Thy days are rapt with mortal mysteries; 
I dwell among austere philosophies, 
Dreaming of life and time and death and 

space. 

Old gods resurgent, music visible; 
Serene, aloof and chill I love to sit, 
Tranced in a thought of heaven and earth 

and hell; 
My dreams I hedge about with bitter wit. 
Passion I understand, but ask not Faith — 
How quick I'd leave thee for some Muse's 

wraith ! 



58 Sonnets to a Red-H aired Lady 

XXXVI. 

Warned by a thousand dreams, I took no 

heed. 
But failed to fence my soul away from thee; 
Mine inner being guessed what thou 

couldst be. 
Brooding upon an unacknowledged need — 
And now the hush'd thought trembles 

toward a deed: 
For sudden beauty bursteth over me 
As a great wave fraught with magic of the 

sea. 
And I, w ho was a rock, I seem a reed ! 



But even a tower were shaken with this 

stress 
Of gathered tides unloos'd in love's as- 
sault — 
Of gathered tides: more than thy loveliness 
O'erwhelms and puts my bleak resolves to 

fault: 
All women loved before, all loves denied. 
Weigh in the surge that batters down my 
pride! 



FAMOUS LOVE AFFAIRS 



PARIS AND HELEN 

Paris was a pretty gent, 

His lamps were quite hypnotic; 
He used the most expensive scent; 

His tastes were . . , well, erotic. 



Helen was a timid skirt. 
All she asked was quiet . 

But, if simps will try to flirt. 
Can ladies start a riot? 



Now should a frail, or wise, or coy. 

Or innocent of folly. 
Scream because some Honey Boy 

Hands her out a jolly? 

This Paris had a black mustache, 
I think I ought to mention . . . 

Once Helen drooped a blonde eyelash : 
It drooped without intention . . . 

61 



62 Famous Love Afairs 

But he pretended for to think 

She drooped it of election : — 
"Ah, ha!" he cried, "you wink! you wink! 

Then buss me, Greek confection!" 



Which took the lady by surprise, 

And striving to expound it, 
She winked again, with both her eyes — 

And bussed him too, confound it! 



She slapped him then, and told the guy, 

"Villian, you unhand me!" 
And he looked grieved and made reply, 

"You misunderstand me!" 



"O, prithee, do not think," she cried, 
"That I kiss gent'men chronic!" 

"I know — trust me" — returned the Snide, 
"Your buss was but Platonic!" 



With smooth remarks like that he laid 
Her natural suspicion . . . 

It was a devil's part he played ! 
Nor did he feel contrition. 




**Paris was a pretty genV 



63 



Famous Love Affairs 65 

He'd take her to see shows as hot 
As if they had been peppered; 

She'd blush . . . he never changed a spot : 
He was a Moral Leopard ! 



And oft, with blushes that would make 
Her brow and cheek and chin burn, 

She'd listen while this Subtile Snake 
Lisped her the Pomes of Swinburne. 

Now Helen's husband saw them kiss . . 

A sandy man, well gingered . . . 
And after several years of this. 

Says he, "I think I'm injured!" 



This husband was a man of strength . 

Few characters were finer . . . 
And when she left her home at length. 

Traced her to Asia Minor. 



Bill Homer's told the rest, I think . 

Fights and fires and phrases . . . 
What started out with Helen's wink 

Wound up with Hell 'n' blazes! 



66 Famous Love Affairs 

The moral of the tale is this: 
That mayhem, death and arson 

Have followed many a thoughtless kiss 
Not sanctioned by a parson ! 



KING COPHETUA AND THE 
BEGGAR MAID 

CoPHETUA was a merry King, 
And slightly sentimental; 

His morals were (if anything) 
What some call "Oriental." 



Zenelophon, the Beggar GoU, 
Was innocent and careful; 

She had been reared to Honest Toil 
By parents poor and prayerful. 

For Papa peddled lemonade 

While Mamma laundered laundry, 

And she had been a solder maid 
Within a muzzle foundry; 

But, oh! the foreman of the staff 
Had tried to Make Advances . . . 

The Villain used to smirk and chaff 
And ask her out to dances! . . . 

67 



68 Famous Love Affairs 

And so she quit the Hellish Place 
And went salvationarming, 

A careful smile upon her face 
So innocent and charming. 



While begging in a Beer Saloon 
Right opposite the palace 

She saw the King one afternoon 
Drink chalice after chalice — 



(He dallied daily with the Jug, 
He hit the pipe and gambled. 

He introduced the bunny-hug 

As round his realm he rambled) — 



Eftsoons the Monarch, reeling by 

Imperially laden. 
Remarked, iniquitous and sly, 

"Pray, buss me. Beggar Maiden!" 

"Not I!" she cried, "I'd rather go 
Right back to making muzzles 

Than kiss a King that roisters so 
And gambles, flirts and guzzles!" 




^'Drink chalice after chalice' 

69 



Famous Love A fairs 71 

The Regal Cut-up, in a mood 

Majestically reckless, 
Then oflFered her a samite snood, 

A duchy and a necklace. 

"Oh, keep your Royal Gauds," she said, 
"And buss your legal spouses! 

I won't kiss none until I'm wed. 
Especial if they're souses!" 

With that he laid his sceptre down 
Beneath her footsy-wootsies — 

"Oh, wed me, and I'll fling muh crown 
Before them pretty tootsies!" 

"O King!" says she, "you have some 
queens!" 

Says he, "They're soon beheaded!" 
That day his headsman reaped their beans, 

The next the King was wedded. 

And Mrs. King Cophetua made 

All parties quit their vices, 
And Papa's private lemonade 

Soon rose to fancy prices. 



72 Famous Love Affairs 

And Mamma laundered for the Eong 

As happy as a linnet — 
Oh, Virtue always wins, I sing. 

If Wisdom's mingled in it! 



TRISTRAM AND ISOLT 

I. 

Sm Tristram was a Bear, in listed field 
Or lady's bower, Champeen with sword or 

song; 
All that life's traffic could be made to yield 
Trist took; he'd tell some Sweet Thing, 

"You belong!" 
And with that word he'd cop her from the 

throng. 
Boudoir or tourney, tea or dancing green, 
He never kept them waiting very long; 
Nor Foe nor Frail had really turned his bean 
Until he lamped King Mark of Cornwall's 
sprightly Queen. 

II. 

Mark was a Pill. His Little Dame had 

Class . . . 
One of those Unions that neglect to Une . . . 
She was a Saint ! He was a Hound ! Alas, 

78 



74 Famous Love Affairs 

That such a Peach should marry such a 
Prune! 

Why did she stick? Who knows the in- 
ward tune 

To which these women march? We know, 
at least, 

Mark had a Wad, and bought her gowns 
and shoon .... 

Also, one eats or one is soon deceased. . . . 

Mayhap it was a case of Booty and the 
Beast! 

III. 

Tristram rode by her palace on a day 
When some young angel leaned from 

Paradise 
And loved the earth and laughed and made 

it May; 
And Izzy saw his lovely purple eyes — 
Not the young angel's: Tristram's; other- 
wise 
She might have flagged the angel for her 

Beau 
Instead of Tristram. Ah! what tears and 

sighs 
Were saved if women never looked below 
The angels . . . yet, no doubt, at times 
they'd find it slow. 



tw 








^V"-^ 



"Rode by her palace on a day** 

76 



Famous Love Affairs 77 

IV. 

As SHE gave him the rapt Once Over, he 
Felt all his bounding pulses pause, then fill 
With love as tidal creeks flood from the 

sea. . . . 
Sir Tristram, if you get me, got Some 

Thrill. . . . 
One jump and he was at her window-sill, 
The Sudden Cuss! "Divinity!" he said, 
"Newly descended from th' Olympian 

HiU, 
I'm yourn! Say, are you single? Are you 

wed.f^ 
If so, where is your Spouse? — I'll go and 

chop his head!" 



V. 

"I'm not Olympian, sir," she said, "but 

only 
Of this hick realm the melancholy Queen. 
You love me. Stranger? Thanks! I get 

so lonely! 
As for your kindly offer to unbean 
My liege lord, 'Ataboy ! I loathe a Scene, 



78 Famous Love Affairs 

As all Nice Women should, but this is Fate! 
No girl can dodge her destiny, I ween. . . 
Or do I dream? Pinch me! — Ouch! 

DonH! Tdhate 
To have you get some Horrid Notion in 

your pate! 



VI. 

**I KNOW you'll think me Unconvention- 
al!"— 

"What are Conventions 'twixt Affini- 
ties.?"— 

"I always thought love was more grad- 
ual!"— 

"Let Temperate Zones grow warmer by 
degrees, 

But why should we Equators think of 
these.?"— 

"Why does your mustache taste that funny 



way 



?" — 



"Something the barber does." — "Stop 
him ! "— " Say pZecwe .^ "— 

"Please, then — and could you murder 
Mark to-day?"— 

"I'll cut his throat 'mid the sweet twi- 
light's tender gray!" — 



Famous Love Affairs 79 

VII. 

Ah, pretty prattle, innocent and artless! 
Sweet interchange as when lute answers 

lute! 
These cooing doves! what Fiend could be 

so heartless 
As wish to make their happy murmurs mute? 
What Fiend but Mark! That wicked, sly 

old brute. 
Whenever his fair wife would kiss a 

stranger. 
Would scowl at her and even stamp his boot. 
Or read her lectures on A Young Wife's 

Danger — 
When Home is Hell what wonder if Love 

proves a Ranger! 

VIII. 

The Spoilsport crept behind them as they 

kissed 
And slammed the window down across 

their necks, 
Nor any guardian spirit grabbed his wrist. 
And in one instant both of them were 

Wrecks! 



80* Famous Love Affairs 

The sad tale's Moral goes for either sex: 
Don't spoon beneath a giddy guillotine 
If any one's about whom it may vex — 
Make love quite out of windows or quite in 
If you aspire to keep a chest below your 
chin. 

IX. 

And so they died, in Cornwall by the sea. 
Where tides asthmatic ever wheeze and 

snortle. 
And the damp tin miners going home to tea 
Still hear sometimes old Mark's com- 
placent chortle 
As his lean ghost by a ghostly window- 
portal 
Slams phantom sashes down and gloats 

and gloats. . . . 
And so they died, and so they are im- 
mortal, 
And in Elysian meadows feel their oats 
Forever ! Death can never get true lovers' 
goats! 



OTHELLO AND DESDEMONA 

Othello's heart was weathered oak. 
And so was his complexion; 

He was, no doubt, the Biggest Smoke 
In Venice's collection. 



He'd served Venezia's Duke, his liege. 

From Cyprus to Bologna, 
And 'twixt a battle and a siege 

Eloped with Desdemona. 

An F. F. v., this artless gal — 

First Family of Venice — 
Who played along the Grand Canal 

Splash, squash and water tennis. 

She was quite blonde. Her father said : 

"By Heaven, this is tragic! 
That Dinge could not have turned her 
head 

Unless he'd pulled some magic!*' 

81 



82 Famous Love Afairs 

"I pulled no stufiF that wasn't right- 
Us Tans and us Gamboges," 

Othello bragged, "can act as white 
As any pale-faced Doges!" 



Fate loosed upon this twain a man 

Of guile and gab, lago. 
More subtle, slick and sinful than 

A Buyer from Chicago. 



Insinuation was his game. 

He used to say: "Old Varnish, 
You better watch your Little Dame !- 

The brightest love will tarnish." 



Or else: "I could unfold a tale! 

But no . . . you'd think me boorish . 
You keep your eye upon that Frail . . . 

You watch her, Swart-and-Moorish!' 



No open charge, you understand — 
He named no wild young fellas — 

But hinted things behind his hand . 
It made Othello jealous. 



Famous Love Affairs 83 

And so one night he killed his wife . . . 

Then learned he'd been mistaken . . . 
"Well, well," he murmured, "such is hfe!" 

It left him rather shaken . . . 



Her friends and kinfolks gathered round, 
And said: "Old Black-and-Tarry, 

You certainly have played the hound!" 
Othello said: "I'm sorry! 

"Alas! the pillows piled above 
The one I should 'a' cherished!" 

And saying so he opened of 

Himself with prayer, and perished. 

The moral is: Don't go and wed 
Some shine like this Othello, 

But let your parents pick a man 
Without a streak of yellow. 



ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA 

Cleopatra Ptolemy's fad 
Was playing Aphrodite; 

From Hind to Italy she had 
The name of being flighty; 



She'd often send a bid to say: 
"On Friday is my wedding! 

Come . . . and stop till Saturday 
And witness the beheading." 



Scarce a beau could keep his bean 
Safe from axe or sickle .... 

Egypt smiled and said, "Our Queen 
Is just a trifle fickle!" 



Antony, the lucky wight, 
Was a Roman winner, 

Ladies used to scheme and fight 
To get the gink for dinner; 
84 




*' '/ need some drammer* " 

85 



Famous Love Affairs 87 

Old medallions show him where 

He prances through the Corso 
With his glad, pomatumed hair 

And his noble torso. 

Waking one day sad with debt 

And blue with hatzenjammer 
He mused, "I've not seen Egypt yet. . . . 

I'll go; I need some drammer!" 

He found the Queen attending, bored, 

A morning tiger party, 
A farewell to a former lord . . . 

The guests were doing hearty. ... 

She saw him . . . he saw her . . . the 
rest, 

For neither was ascetic. 
Was Robert Chambers at his best — 

Some folks are so magnetic! 

Says she, "You stay in Egypt, kid. 
And can them Latin minxes — 

I'll deed to you a pyramid 
And half a dozen Sphinxes!" 



88 Famous Love Affairs 

Says he, " You keep your trinkets, ma*am, 

I am not mercenary . . . 
I do not give a diadam 

For aught but you, my fairy!" 



Though Fate is skulking in the wings, 
Our Strong-Arm Tony clasps her . . 

Oh! let's be brief with tragic things . , 
Fate enters next, and asps her! 



CLEOPATRA ON MRS. MARC 
ANTONY 

Your representative has seen the Serpent 

of Old Nilus 
About the Antony Affair; and never has 

my stylus 

Been called upon before to sketch a char- 
acter so charming . . . 

Although, at times. Her Majesty has moods 
that are alarming .... 

**I Live my Own Life," Cleopatra said, 

"and my intent is 
To persevere in that respect; I'll follow 

what my bent is! 

"You say that Fulvia's suing me for eighty 

thousand dollars? 
A Woman who can't Hold her Husband 

always peeves and hollers! 



89 



90 Famous Love Affairs 

"But what a bourgeois thing to do! How 
common ! And how Roman ! 

By Isis, kid, a thoroughbred would put a 
price on no man!" 



The queen received me on the roof directly 

after dinner; 
She's looking . . . well, she is some queen! 

Perhaps a trifle thinner 



Than when she met Jule Caesar on that 
gink's Egyptian mission . . . 

The time he told his wife she'd ought to 
be above suspicion. . . . 



She gave me coffee in a cup carved from a 

single ruby; 
As she was pouring it a slave, a thick 

thumb-handed booby. 



Spilled some upon her royal neck, which 

rather riled our queenlet — 
She swung a jewelled scimitar and nicked 

his Nubian beanlet. . . . 



Famous Love Affairs 91 

The Nile, below us, squirmed and flashed 
with phosphorescent fishes. 

And now and then a crocodile, content and 
unambitious. 



Would root against the palace steps and 

scratch his back and bellow. 
Or some lorn hippopotamus would warble 

for his fellow . . . 



And now and then, as we conversed, the 

queen, in merry mood O ! 
Would kick a courtier from the roof to give 

her^pets their food O! 



"I loathe Conventions," said the queen. 
"My Soul cannot be harried 

With Trivial Things ! I will not be Victor- 
ian, Trammelled, Married! 



"I gotta be Myself, old kid, and if as such 

I break up 
Some Home monogamous, what then? I 

cannot help my make-up! 



92 Famous Love Affairs 

"Soul-mates are Soul-mates! Get me, 
kid? I always had a leaning 

Towards Freedom, kid! You otta Give 
your Love a Higher Meaning! 



" You got that down? I must express myself ! 

— And you might mention 
That to my mind there's nothing as wicked 

as Convention!" 



"Serpent," I said, "another point perhaps 

you'd care to answer: 
Fulvia has spread the word, from Capricorn 

to Cancer, 



"That while you have the will to be a 
reg'lar Moral Leper 

She has you faded, frail to frail, for pul- 
chritude and pepper — 



"She says, in short, your Work is Coarse, 
your tricks are out of kilter, 

And that you'd not 'a' trapped her Mark 
but that you used a philtre." 



Famous Love Affairs 93 

"Did she say that?" Miss Ptolemy rose, 

ferocious as a Bulgar, 
Then calmed herself and murmured low: 

"My Gawd! How crude and vulgar! 



"You paint 'em blue, or chalk 'em white, 

or rub 'em with erasers, 
Their Commonplaceness will stick out on 

all these Commonplacers ! 



"This Mrs. Marcus Antony is really quite 

pathetic; 
It's Personality that wins, not Poses or 

Cosmetic — 



"But why should I get sore at her? I'll not 

descend to bandy 
Words with such a low-browed skirt . . . 

nor send her poisoned candy." 



And yet it seemed to me the queen, be- 
neath her calm external. 

Was somewhat stung: for as I left I heard 
a noise infernal : 



94 Famous Love Affairs 

Next day I learned that she had loosed a 
large man eating tiger . . . 

A pet particular of hers brought northward 
from the Niger . . . 



Among her royal servants who, in rushing 

from the palace. 
Were met by waiting crocodiles. I think 

she harbours malice .... 



She took a dozen female slaves and named 

each "Mrs. Tony," 
And fed them to the ibises, and did it all- 

aloney ! 

Sometimes our little queen is calm, sweet- 

natured, soft and gentle; 
And then again she's something else . . . 

She calls it "Temper'mental." 




*'/w rushing from the palace** 



95 



QUEEN ELIZABETH INTERVIEWED 

Your Representative has seen Miss Queen 

Elizabeth, 
And talked with her of Marriage, Men 

and Mary Stuart's death. 
*Twas one of great Eliza's Spacious Days; 

she said her say 
At length, with point and heat — as always 

on a Spacious Day. 



"That httle red-head Stuart Minx," began 

the noble Queen, 
"The best day's work they ever did was 

amputate her bean! 
The blank-blanked little Green Eyed Cat! 

By Priam and by Hek, 
These royal hands of mine they ached to 

nick that woman's neck! 
She wasn't Moral, kid! And as Walt 

Raleigh used to say. 
Do what you d d well please, but do it 

ina Moral Way!" 
97 



98 Famous Love Affairs 

She paused and drank a quart of ale, and 

then Her Majesty — 
Without abating jot or tipple of her 

dignity- 
Leaned from her gilded throne and shied 

the dripping tankard at 
A lacy bishop's embonpoint, and knocked 

the varlet flat. 
Encouraged by her playful mood, the 

somewhat jovial tone 
That mingled so with majesty, as words 

wed to a lyre, 
A Chancellor pushed up to her a thick 

north country squire: 
"I knight you, Dub," the Queen remarked, 

and smashed his collar bone. 
The Queen is full of grace and charm and 

quaint, unstudied ways. 
Especially on what are known as Liza's 

Spacious Days. 
"'Od's blood!" the Queen went on, "I've 

heard some blank-blanked whey-faced 

ginks 
Have said I should have pardoned her; — 

but Mary was my Jinx! 
By gad!" . . . she banged the sceptre down 

and all the court turned pale . . . 



Famous Love Affairs 99 

"The wight that mentions her is lucky if he 

goes to gaol ! 
That dame was always getting wed ! She'd 

dress up like a horse 
And flag a man and marry him! I think 

there's Something Coarse 
In any blank-blanked Princess that has 

Marriage on her bean — 
To hell with Men ! I've stayed Refined . . . 

I am the Virgin Queen ! 
The Earl of Essex used to say when he 

came here and dined, 
*I gotta hand it to Your Grace! Your 

Grace is so Refined!' " 

Your Representative, though trepidant, 

found heart to say : 
"Your regal dad viewed Marriage in a 

rather different way." 

"Yes, Dad," she said, "was crude and 
coarse, the time he reigned in, ruder — 

I've got to raise the average for the whole 
d d House of Tudor!" 

She broke a splinter from a stool that stood 

the throne beneath 
And quite reflectively she picked her lovely 

yellow teeth . . . 



100 Famous Love Affairs 

Those teeth of which her Poets sing: Oh, 

ivory and gold! 
They shine like morning in her court ! Ah, 

wondrous to behold . . . 
And as she picked the Regal Teeth, Lord 

Burleigh ambled by, 
And, still reflectively, she flicked the 

splinter in his eye. 



"In former times the kings cut up like 

butchers, bards or tanners, 
But I have always tried to be a Model in 

my Manners. 
The Earl of Leicester used to say when he 

dropped in to dinner, 
'My Liege's daintiness alone would make 

My Liege a Winner!' 
And also, please to state for me, I Pat- 
ronize the Arts — 
This whole damned palace here is cluttered 

up with Men of Parts. 
As Walter Raleigh used to say . . . when 

he came in to tea . . . 
'I gotta hand it to Your Grace for Cultured 

Ways,' says he.'* 



Famous Love Affairs 101 

Your Representative made haste to say — 

what is but true — 
"Of all the Great I've interviewed, ne'er 

did I interview 
A personage. Your Majesty, who had a 

thing on you!" 
"Don't flatter now!" she said, and smiled: 

and as she smiled a sort 
Of smiling sigh went whispering around 

the nervous court — 
For something of anxiety shows in the 

courtier's gaze 
When Great Elizabeth begins one of her 

Spacious Days. 



Beaumont and Fletcher trotted up, and 

kneeling by her throne. 
These Siamese Twins of Drama chanted in 

a dulcet tone 
Their latest song in praise of her, the 

Great Elizabeth . , . 
Her moods are changeable . . . she rose: 

"'Od's blood!" she cried: "'Od's 

Death!" 



102 Famous Love Affairs 

And snatching off her coronet, when Beau- 
mont's mouth oped wide. 

With more than female force she jammed 
the jewelled knob inside . . . 

And catching up his weapon from a drows- 
ing halberdier 

She poked it part in Fletcher's eye and 
partly in his ear . . . 

"Ye bean-fed rogues," she said, "avaunt! 
Heraus! How didst thou dare 

In thy blank-blank-ed song to say thy 
Queen had golden hair? 

Hath it not been proclaimed to all, in 
village, thorpe and town. 

That on last Michaelmas the Queen's long 
yellow hair turned brown? " 



I thought it best to take my leave. " Your 

Majesty," I said, 
"Some monarchs would have had these 

beasts well boiled in oil instead." 
Whereon Sir Francis Walsingham said to 

Her Majesty: 
"They got to hand it to Your Grace for 

kindly leniency!" 



ROMEO AND JULIET 

Pop Montague's old brain was wried 
Through all its convolutions 

With constant thoughts of Homicide 
And kindred institutions. 

White-haired Giuseppi Capulet, 
Although he liked his daughter. 

The pert, precocious Juliet, 
Was fonder still of slaughter. 

Young Romeo was just designed 

To play Italian opera: 
A looker, with a tenor mind — 

A perfect star for Wopera. 

Each cutthroat father kept at hand, 
In their respective houses, 
A low-browed, cloaked, romantic band 
Of swordsmen, thugs and souses. 

103 



104 Famous Love Affairs 

"When ennui made Giuseppi sad 
He'd go a-Montagueing; 

Pop Montague's pertieler fad 
Was Capulet-pursuing. 



How could young lovers dodge their doom, 

With all these complications? 
They gravitated to the tomb 

To join their near relations. 

Their bloody story I might trace — 
How loved they but to rue it — • 

At length if I but had the face. 
But Shakespeare beat me to it. 



(They're Shakespeare's corpses — let him 
hop 

About his morgue and sort 'em — 
I'll start where he came to a stop 

And pull a brief post-mortem. 



Will for the dagger and the kiss. 
The poison and the quarrels. 

But my preoccupation is, 
Far more than Will's, with morals.) 



Famous Love Affairs 105 

So when the feud had run its course 
And slain its scores and dozens 

The ancient cutthroats got remorse — 
And gave it to their cousins. 



Quoth Capulet: "We're here to-day- 
But where are we to-morrow?" 

Pop Montague would often say : 
"I feel a sort of sorrow!'* 



Remorse soon heightened to regret; 

They signed a bond one Monday- 
Old Montague and Capulet — 

To slay no man on Sunday! 



Their hearts grew softer with the years. 

Their mood grew kind and pensive — 
They mused, one morning, bathed in tears, 

"Some days, crime seems offensive!" 



Salt globules furrowed each lank cheek. 
They thought of son and daughter. 

And vowed that more than once a week 
They'd not indulge in slaughter. 



106 Famous Love Affairs 

Upon their own reform they'd gloat. 
In consciousness of virtue. 

And murmur as they cut a throat: 
"I'm sorry if I hurt you!" 



Thus Montague and Capulet, 
They took to heart the lesson. 

And so the death of JuHet 

In some ways proved a blessin*. 

And this reform of which I speak 
Made them far less dejected — 

They stuck to murder once a week 
And died loved and respected! 



A 



PETRARCH AND LAURA 

A TASTE Francesco Petrarch had 
For dialects, and leeks, and verses. 

Though Laura was his best-known f ad . . . 
But Laura loved her Husband (Curses!) 

Through twenty long and tragic years 
That burned Francesco's soul like acid— 

(He melted several Alps with tears)— 
Laura remained at home . . . quite 
placid. 

She loved her Husband, Laura did: 
Please fix that vital fact securely. 

When Petrarch called her "Heavenly kid!" 
She'd blush and drop her eyes demurely. 

Not that he ever saw her more 

Than once or twice in any quarter . . . 

Food took his time, dialects, and war . . . 
For months she'd think he'd stopped it, 
sorter. 

107 



108 Famous Love Affairs 

Twas A. D. 1331 

He studied Greek (historians say so) 
And sang, "She warms me like the sun!' 

And boned up P. Ovidius Naso. 



I think 'twas 1339 

He learned the speech of Kurds and 
Coptics, 
And, flushed with love and Tuscan wine. 

Penned three canzoni to her optics. 

In 1328 he wrote, 

"I cannot live a year without her!" 
In 1346 1 note 

A similar remark about her. 

From thirteen-twenty-nine to thirt- 
Een-hundred-forty-eight she never 

(Though he septennial tried to flirt) 
Smiled once upon his bold endeavour. 

She loved her Husband. And her Home. 

She loved her Babes. She had eleven. 
While Petrarch wrote pome after pome — 

Sonnets three-hundred-twenty-seven ! 




" '/ cannot live a year without her* " 

109 



Famous Love Affairs 111 

And all white-toothed Italia smiled, 
Commenting pleasantly upon it — 

"Dear Laura has another child!" 

"Hast lamped Petrarco's latest sonnet?" 

She perished: (1348). 

"Alas," he sighed, "I never kissed her!" 
His sonnets, onward from that date. 

Lead one to think he somehow missed 
her . . . 

She died, and Earth held little more : 
Vain all its garlic, gauds and laughter! 

He pined. In 1374, 

Not thirty years, he followed after. 

By Venus, in those Southern climes. 

How quick and reckless is love's fashion! 

In colder latitudes and times 

We dwell and learn to curb our passion. 



HERO AND LEANDER 

Leander in the Dardanelles 
Had rather race a dolphing 

Than idle with the other swells 
Or dance or go a-golfing. 



In church at Abydos one day, 

At a revival service, 
He saw young Hero, and the way 

He lamped her made her nervous. 



And after that, along the coast 
He would do fancy swimmin' 

Graceful enough to charm the most 
Fastidious of women; 



When she'd go bathing, dawn or dark. 

About her bathing station 
He'd frolic like a friendly shark, 

Or like a coy cetacean. 

112 




^Ue would do fancy swimmin*' 

113 



Famous Love Affairs 115 

What maiden's heart could long resist 
Such sweet and shy devotion? 

Full often, when he dived, she kissed 
And patted his pet ocean! 



Leander, on flirtation bent. 
Across the straits was floating 

One morning when her mother went 
To chaperon her boating: — 



"Oh, mother, may I marry him?" — 
"Oh, no, my darling daughter! 

When young Leander goes to swim 
Don't you go near the water!" 



Alas! that maids should disobey. 
Whom parents trust and bless so! 

Girls will be girls ... in Hero's day 
They were not any less so. 



Next time she heard him in the sea 
Snort like a loving grampus. 

Says she, "Swim over after tea — 
It's dark, and none can lamp us!" 



116 Famous Love Affairs 

And after that, to light her love. 
She used to show a candle . . 

It grew to the dimensions of 
A reg'lar seashore scandal . . . 



But finally Neptune, Triton, or 

Some ordinary porpoise, 
Caught him a mile or two from shore 

And served a habeas corpus. 

The night was cold . . . the sea was 
damp . . . 

Alas, for him and Hero! 
The moral is: Don^t risk a cramp 

When the water's down to zero. 




SH 



**Adam was a handsome lad'* 

117 



ADAM AND EVE 

Adam was a handsome lad. 
Innocent and merry; 

Garden parties were his fad. 
And he was honest, very. 



Eve was rather artless; she 
Was also quite vivacious; 

She plucked her raiment from a tree 
Elseocarpaceous. 



Satan was a City Man, 

Wicked, dark-complected . , 

He paled as only villains can 
When Eve his love rejected. 



Satan was a chap who used 
To sin with conscious pride, O! 

He drank, he swore, he introduced 
The Boa Constrictor Glide, O! 

119 



120 Famous Love Affairs 

When she turned the fellow down. 
Though with rage he trembled, 

Satan smoothed away a frown. 
Smiled at her, dissembled . . . . 



But he'd think of it and curse 
While he drank or gambled; 

Thoughts of dark revenge he'd nurse 
As round the world he rambled. 



He muttered, "This is not the end; 

You'll repent it. Madam!" . . . 
But he posed as Family Friend 

When she wedded Adam. 



Years went by, and still he came 

Once a week to dinner; 
His outward mood was bland and tame. 

But evil was his inner. 



Quite informal he'd drop in. 
Dine and help do dishes . . . 

Who could think he planned a sin? 
Who'd believe him vicious? 



Famous Love Affairs 121 

But every time he wiped a plate 

Or helped poor Adam buttle 
He'd sneer inside and meditate 

Something smooth and subtle.' 



At last he gained in Adam's house 

A plausible position; 
At last he lulled, in Adam's spouse. 

Her natural suspicion. 

He rooned 'em . . , then he gave a hiss, 
A glide and boa-constricted . . . 

Details are told in Genesis . . . 
I think they were evicted. 



LANCELOT AND GUINEVERE 

King Arthur was a steady king, 
Who loathed light talk or skittish. 

Respectable as anything, 

Strong 'eaded, blond and British. 



His Queen beside him on the throne, 
So golding 'aired and tidy. 

Would tip the beam at fourteen stone. 
And every ounce a lydy. 



Sir Lancelot was 'andsome, quite. 

The women all adored him — 
He tried to bear it like a knight. 

But being worshipped bored him. 

His big, bright shield was curved and bent 
And more tub-shaped than normal; 

He'd frequent halt a tournament 
And bathe, all stern and formal. 

122 



Famous Love Affairs 123 

The knights, they might 'ave bashed 'im 
then 

While 'e was coldly scrubbing, 
But they were British gentlemen 

Respectful of his tubbing. 

'E loved 'is Queen, and she confessed 

'Is love reciprocated; 
It grieved 'em both . . . they did their 
best 

But could not feel elated. 

"My word," Sir Lancelot would sigh, 
"What rotten form to love 'er!" 

And then 'e'd gloom and say good-by . . . 
Retm'n . . . and gloom . . . and hover. 

The Queen would call 'erself a fraud — 

She hated loving, madly ! — 
"It's using Harthur bad . . . Oh, Gawd!" 

The Queen would mutter sadly. 

"To think," says he, "I'd act the same 

As any foreign bounder!" 
And moaning with a sense of shame 

He'd put his arm around 'er. 



124 Famous Love Affairs 

She*d kiss him, while repentant tears 
Fell salt on his proboscis . . . 

For seventeen long mournful years 
They nobly bore their crosses . . . 



'E moralized, grew thin, austere. 
And groaned, awake or sleeping; 

But she grew bloated, Guinevere, 
With self-reproach and weeping. 



When Honest Arthur learned the fac's 
It shocked him so completely 

The court opined they'd get the axe . . 
Instead, he took it sweetly . . . 



King Arthur says, "Me for the tomb. 
Where no disgrace can grab us!" 

The Queen crept sobbing from the room 
And went and was an Abbuss. 



And Lancelot, he moaned and said, 
"I 'ope no one will guy 'er! 

For me, I'll shave my blooming 'ead 
And go and be a friar." 



Famous Love Affairs 125 

The moral is : Observe your bent. 

Your own traits mark and measure — 

If one has not the temperament 
Philandering isn't pleasure. 



SOLOMON AND BALKIS 

From Beersheba up to Dan 
Another such a caravan 
Dazed Palestine had never seen 
As that which bore Sabea's queen 
Out of the fain and flaming South 
To slake her yearning spirit's drouth 
At wisdom's pools, with Solomon. 

With gifts of scented sandal-wood 
And labdanum and cassia-bud, 
With spicy spoils of Araby 
And camel-loads of ivory 
And heavy cloths that glanced and shone 
With pearl inwrought and beryl-stone 
She came, a bold Sabean girl. 

And did she find him sad, or gay? 
Perchance his palace breathed that day 
With psalters sounding solemnly — 
Or cymbals' merrier minstrelsy — 

126 



Famous Love Affairs 127 

Perchance the wearied monarch heard 
Some loose-tongued prophet's meddling 
word; — 

None knows, no one — but Solomon ! 



She looked — with eyes wherein were blent 
All ardours of the Orient; 
She spake — all magics of the South 
Were compassed in the witch's mouth; — 
He thought the scarlet lips of her 
More precious than En Gedi's myrrh. 
The lips of that Sabean girl. 

By many an amorous sun caressed, , 
From lifted brow to amber breast 
She gleamed in vivid loveliness — 
And lithe as any leopardess — 
And verily, one blames thee not 
If thine own proverbs were forgot, 
O Solomon, wise Solomon! 

She danced for him, and surely she 
Learnt dancing from some moonlit sea 
Where elfin vapours swirled and swayed 
While the wild pipes of witchcraft played 



128 Famous Love Affairs 

Such clutching music 't would impel 
A prophet's self to dance to hell — 
So spun the light Sabean girl. 

He swore her laughter had the lilt 
Of chiming waters that are spilt 
In sprays of spurted melody 
From founts of carven porphyry, 
And in the billowy turbulence 
Of her dusk hair drowned soul and sense — 
Dark tides and deep, O Solomon ! 

Perchance unto her day belongs 
His poem called the Song of Songs, 
Each little lyric interval 
Timed to her pulse's rise and fall; — 
Or when he cried out wearily 
That all things end in vanity 

Did he mean that Sabean girl? 

The bright barbaric opulence. 
The sun-kist Temple, Kedar's tents, — 
How many a careless caravan 
From Beersheba up to Dan 
Within these forty centuries 
Has flimg their dust to many a breeze. 
With dust that was King Solomon! 



Famous Love Affairs 129 

But still the lesson holds as true, 
O King! as when she lessoned you: 
That very wise men are not wise 
Until they read in folly^s eyes 
The wisdom that escapes the school. 
That bids the sage revise his rules 
By light of some Sabean girl I 



DroO AND ^NEAS 

uEneas was a cattle boy, 

And his career was checkered; 

Bull after bull, by roaring Troy, 
He threw, and copped the record. 



Troy down — and Helen tripping back. 

Remarried by the rector, 
To Greece — iEneas took his pack 

And beat it west, by Hector! 



He took a ship, and mal de mer 
From Colonel Neptune's ocean 

Crept up and shook his steamer chair 
And filled him with emotion. 



A storm came up — (and other things 

Too intimate to write on: 
When Triton spouts, both clowns and king 

Will spout right back at Triton.) 

130 




SHJ 



** Too intimate to write on' 

131 



Famous Love Affairs 133 

And in the straiter seas his craw. 

If anything, was iller — 
He lost his spirit when he saw 

Charybdis teasing Scyller. 



And so he climbed the raging seas. 
Green hummock after hummock. 

And got to Carthage, ill at ease 
And qualmish in the stomach. 



Queen Dido met him at the wharf 
And poured him out a potion; 

Says she: "You takes this bumper orf 
And you forgets the ocean!" 

He drank. He calmed. And then says he: 
"Old dear, I like that tunic!"— 

He doted on good clothes, and she 
Was portly, pink and Punic. 



She blushed, and then said with a smile: 

"Although I am Phoenician, 
I always try to dress in style," 

Says he: "You're more than Grecian!" 



134 Famous Love Affairs 

Thus, like so many other gents, 

Who're pleasant when they're grateful. 

He fed her up with compliments. 
Not knowing they are fateful. 

For all he meant was gratitude. 

To pay her for her potion. 
But she construed his attitude 

To indicate devotion. 

He only tried to be pohte, 

Which charmed her . . . more*s the 
pity! ... 
And she'd assure him he was quite. 

Quite welcome to her city. 

Well, well, . . . his words went to her 
bean .... 
She led him to a cavern 
And mixed him drinks . . . the poor, dear 
Queen ! 
Folks sneered : " She runs a tavern ! '* 

He sailed one day . . . the royal frail 
Had even picked the parson! . . . 

It is a truly tragic tale; 

She killed herself with arson. 



Famous Love Affairs 135 

Do not as serious construe, 

Fair maids, each small attention. 

Or there may come a fate to you 
Too turrible to mention! 



HARLEQUIN AND COLUMBINE 

When the soul of the year through its body 

of earth 
Burst forth in a bloom as of fire. 
And the butterflies rose in a rainbow riot 

of mirth 
To flutter and burn and take wing and 

aspire, 
To her garden our Columbine came . . . 
She was light as her laughter, and bright 

as blown flame — 
Flower, woman and music, and all these the 

same. 



Harlequin 

Was a wind of the Spring that came out of 

the dawn; 
He was air, he was whim, he was fancy and 

mirth. 
And his feet on the earth 
Were as fleet as the feet of a faun. 

136 



Famous Love Affairs 137 

He was fickle as glimmers of starlight that 

shine 
On the waves of the rivers of dream; he 

was tricky as wine; 
He was pagan as Pan; 
A dancer, a lover, a liar, a wit, 
A poet, a satyr, an imp with the face of a 

man; 
And his heart was unstable as wings are 

that hft 
Where the dragonflies drift. 
His heart was as wings that turn, dartle 

and flit. 
And his loves were as swift. 



And into her garden he came like a spiral 

of wind that beats down in a shower 
Red flower and white flower . . . 
And their hearts were as swift as the doves 

in their flight. 
Their love was the love of the youth of the 

world . . . 
They mingled, they danced, they were shod 

with delight. 
They were sandalled with joy . . . 
She was hfted and whirled. 



138 Famous Love Affairs 

She was flung, she was swirled, she was 
driven along 

By this carnival wind that had torn her 
away 

From the coronal bloom on the brow of the 
May 

In a whorl as of rapture . . . their danc- 
ing was visible Song! 

His moods were as light as the airs of the 

dawn; 
He loved for an hour, and was gone . . . 
What matter if flower and red flower 
Were flung down in a shower. 
And blossom, and blossoms, were trodden 

and dead? 
It was only a wind that had danced with a 

flower, 
When all's done and said! 



THE END 



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